


Turn and Face the Strange

by anonymousduchess



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But not how you think, F/M, M/M, genderbent wilson, he wakes up a woman, i don't know what else to tag so i'll add more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousduchess/pseuds/anonymousduchess
Summary: When Wilson wakes up as a woman, things change. For the better, eventually, but not right away. Because that's just how things go with House and Wilson.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson, Remy "Thirteen" Hadley & Greg House
Comments: 15
Kudos: 76





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place between the Huddy breakup and the whole *****SPOILER*****************
> 
> House driving his car into her dining room-thing. Still salty about that, but whatever. 
> 
> I got on the Hilson bandwagon. Before anyone tries to Fight Me, I will say that the writers of the show did quite the job of leaving House and Wilson's relationship open to interpretation. There's strong evidence for just a strong platonic friendship, but also plenty of subtext and hints that there is something romantic happening. Of course, I had to lean towards the more frustrating option. .__.
> 
> Also, I'm not abandoning my other fics! I've just been putting a lot of pressure on myself to make sure it's good enough to publish. .-.
> 
> Also, I might add an episodic-style version of this if I stop being lazy.

"You did this!" The patient shouts as Foreman and Chase hold him back against the bed. 

"Stop whining. I _healed_ you," House retorts from the safety of the other side of the room. 

"You'll pay for this!" The patient stops struggling, which means that his pain has subsided––just like House had predicted it would once they started the guy on the correct medication. "I hear you don't believe in the supernatural? Well, you'll see. I'll go after the one you care about the most."

"Unless you plan on making Vicodin disappear––" 

"No. Not Vicodin." The patient gets a twisted smirk on his face. "A person."

"I've already broken up with--"

"No, not her, either."

House narrows his eyes. "Would you stop interrupting me? It's annoying."

The patient's smirk grows, and even Chase and Foreman have to suppress shivers. "You'll see." Then, as if realizing something, he holds up his index finger in protest as he looks between Foreman and Chase. "That's not a death threat! I'm not going to hurt anybody."

"Oh, really?" Foreman quips. "Then what are you planning to do?"

"Prove to Doctor House that the supernatural is real."

There's a heavy pause.

And then, House sucks in his lower lip for dramatic effect before saying, "Yeah! Good luck with that." He limps out of the door but stops to say, "And by the way, _you're welcome_ for saving your life."

* * *

House doesn't want to believe the threat. At first, he doesn't believe it. Especially not when Wilson is making his rounds in the oncology ward and looking healthy.

Huh, maybe the patient wasn't talking about Wilson.

****

Cuddy is looking perfectly fine, too. The familiar ache of a broken heart has faded to a dull kind of ache as House watches her. When she first told him it was over, he felt like he'd do anything for a second chance. He can be better; he'd needed to prove to her that he could be better. 

****

When Wilson doesn't answer his phone that evening, House ignores the faint nagging in his head and chalks up the missed call to Wilson having an early night. Or he's just annoyed at something House did. Would be nice to know if he'd done anything specifically annoying today, but he'll just ask tomorrow.

****

The next day, when Wilson isn't in his office, House excuses the lateness to a hangover. Or maybe a patient needed consoling in the oncology ward. House didn't have a case today, so he had plenty of time to search the ward. No sign of Wilson.

Strange, but not unthinkable.

In the afternoon, there's still no sign of Wilson. He's also not answering any of House's calls, or calls from fake numbers. After the twentieth failed attempt, House hangs up the phone with a sigh. Desperate times...

****

"I need a favor."

Cuddy looks up and raises an eyebrow. Ah, back to the good ole days. "Uh-huh... Who do you want to torture this time?"

"Wilson."

"You're so bored that now you want to torture the doctors?"

"Nope. Well, yes to the fact that I'm bored, but I don't want to torture doctor _s_ \--plural. Just the singular doctor."

"Whatever fight you're having, I'm not getting into it. I have a meeting." Cuddy zips up her purse and tosses it over her shoulder. As she passes House, she ignores the odd look that he's giving her.

"In order to know if we _are_ in a fight, I have to get in touch with him first."

Cuddy scoffs and turns around. "It's not that difficult for you to search the hospital. He's here somewhere."

"Nooo he's noooot," House replies, in the style of a child tattling on someone. 

Cuddy blinks, and House feels a small sense of satisfaction at taking her off-guard. "Well-- I'm sure he'll show up. Or maybe he left. If he knows what's good for him." She mutters the last sentence as she turns back to the door. 

"He's not answering any of my calls." Before Cuddy can reply, House beats her to it. "Or any of the fake numbers I used."

Slowly, Cuddy turns around again. She searches House for any sign of dishonesty; but really, how can she tell what's true and what isn't? There was a time where she was good at reading him, but another tragedy from their dating was that she was no longer certain of that skill.

House ducks his head and looks away, absent-mindedly moving his cane back-and-forth. "Please," he says quietly, finally looking Cuddy in the eyes. "He'll answer for you. I need to make sure..."

A pang of something deflates Cuddy, and she sighs as she marches over to the office phone. She ignores the feeling that comes from the idea that, what, House is so concerned for Wilson that he'd swallow his pride enough to come begging to her for help? Whatever the case, she focuses on the task at hand. It isn't good for the hospital if the head of oncology is missing without a heads up. When he doesn't answer, Cuddy shakes her head and pulls out her cellphone. She avoids eye contact with House while the line rings, and ignores his unwavering gaze. It goes straight to voicemail and Cuddy stares at her phone in confusion. 

"He's not answering."

"Something's wrong," comes House's gravelly voice--extra gravelly because he's genuinely concerned. Or just curious. Maybe both. 

Suddenly, a text appears on her phone screen: _I'll call later. Please don't tell House._ She bites her lip as she quickly debates whether or not to announce Wilson's text. She's had to make far more important decisions in far less time, but there's always an added pressure when House is involved. On the other hand, Wilson has always been a good friend to her (except when he bought the condo out from under her, but that's water under the bridge now). She frowns at her phone and replies, _"Okay"_ before putting it back in her purse and looking at House. 

"I'm going to be late," is all she says as she breezes by him. "Figure it out," she calls when she's already passing the clinic desk. 

****

Day four, and still no sign or word from Wilson. 

"...and then I told the guy that the monkey has to look far more attractive if I'm going to kiss it for twenty bucks."

The team all look at House, who's staring thoughtfully into his coffee mug and weaving a pen through his fingers. He senses their attention and snaps out of it. "What?" He feigns interest in whatever Taub was saying.

"I said--" Taub begins, but House cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard the part about the monkey."

"So he _was_ listening," Taub states, looking at the others.

Chase holds out his hand and Foreman grudgingly hands over a five-dollar bill; he ignores Chase's smirk.

"Really?" House asks irritably, swinging the chair around to give tweedle-dumb and tweedle-Dundee his most unimpressed expression. "Are you _that_ desperate for things to bet on?"

Chase shrugs while Foreman looks caught out. "I'll take easy money when I see it," Chase states simply. 

"Back to the case," Taub resumes, "I think it could be lupus this time."

House turns his chair back around and eyes Taub with an "oh, you" expression. "Don't try to distract me with dream diagnoses." He wags his finger.

"Then what has got you so caught up that you're not even remotely interested in a case?" Thirteen chimes in.

House's smirk drops. "Wilson's been missing for four days."

The atmosphere immediately becomes serious.

"What?" Thirteen asks.

House rolls his eyes. "Don't make me repeat--"

"No, I _heard_ what you said, but it doesn't make any sense." There's a pause as the rest of the team look at Thirteen expectantly while House glares daggers at her. "I saw Cuddy in his office yesterday."

House leans forward, eyes now wide with curiosity. "What was she doing in there?"

"It looked like she was gathering some things... Books, maybe? She was on the phone, but I couldn't hear what she was saying."

House rolls his eyes. "And you didn't stay to listen?"

Thirteen blinks, but she's not phased. "I wasn't aware that it was my duty to eavesdrop on _your_ boss."

"She's _your_ boss, too, y'know," House replies childishly. 

"I'm _sure_ Wilson's fine," Foreman cuts in, obviously done with this conversation. "Can we return to the patient, please?"

"Taub's right," House announces, grabbing his cane and standing up. "It's lupus."

Everyone stares at him.

”You haven’t even heard any of the symptoms—“ Foreman begins, but House talks over him. 

"Or, if it _isn't_ lupus, test for things that it _could_ be. You're all big boys--" he looks at Thirteen-- "and girl. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually." He limps out of the room in determination. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I hope I'm getting the characterizations correct. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!! Also, if you wanna buy me a tea, it would be greatly appreciated! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/duchesswriter
> 
> QUESTION: Should Cuddy know what’s happened to Wilson, and should they try to pass Wilson off as Cuddy’s friend? House figures it out, of course, because he knows his Wilson. OR should Cuddy also be unaware and only be in contact with Wilson through text? Thereby making the phone conversation Thirteen saw moot since it was with someone other than Wilson? Let me know in the comments!


	2. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious, beautiful woman shows up at House's door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to figure out if House would keep thinking that female!Wilson is an imposter and the real Wilson is still out there, or if he'd realize that female!Wilson is real––and how he'd figure it out. I have one idea, but feel free to give ideas in the comments, or the next chapter might take awhile. ^__^;
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated! Even if it takes me forever to reply to them.

Day four, and still no sign of Wilson. There was a text, however, on day two that simply said, “I’m out of town.” House didn’t buy that for a second, but since Wilson’s place was empty, he didn’t know where his friend could be hiding. At least this was another puzzle to solve; his current case was getting boring.

“You need to find Wilson.” Cuddy’s voice pulls House out of his musings.

He takes a deep breath and steeples his hands, looking up at the ceiling. “I hear this annoying voice telling me to do something obvious,” he looks back at Cuddy, “any idea where it could be coming from?”

Cuddy is unimpressed, as usual. “Maybe it's your conscience. He’s your friend. You should be more concerned.”

“He’s also _your_ friend—“

“ _And_ he’s this hospital’s head of oncology.”

House hates when Cuddy speaks over him. He stares her down, but the woman is strong and unwavering.

“It’s been four days. Find him.”

House rolls his eyes. “What do you think I’ve been doing when I’m not here trying to save my patient’s life?”

Cuddy peers at House for a moment before leaning back in genuine surprise. “House, are you getting any sleep?”

“Of course. Like a baby, every night.”

“I don’t think you are... You’ve actually been looking for Wilson. Like someone who cares about his friend...”

“Don’t you dare,” he warns when he sees a smirk starting to appear on Cuddy’s lips.

“I’m sorry that I pointed out you’re capable of having a normal human emotion,” she replies dryly. After a moment of reveling, her smirk fades and she grows solemn. “I’m worried, too, House. This isn’t like Wilson.”

House nods once, averting his gaze. “Have you heard from him at all?”

“No.” And that's the truth. After the text on the day he went missing, he hadn’t answered any of her calls or texts.

House’s pager goes off and he jumps to his feet. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“You can’t keep pretending that you’re not worried, House,” Cuddy calls after him.

“Sure I can,” House replies, stopping at the door. “Watch.” With that, he turns the handle and is gone.

* * * *

Another patient saved, but House’s mind is already consumed with another puzzle. His fingers plunk the keys randomly—he's too preoccupied to actually play. A knock on his door barely registers, and he continues thinking. The knocking is suddenly far louder and more insistent than before. House growls in frustration and limps to the door, opening it to reveal a rather attractive—correction: gorgeous—woman. But he doesn't want a distraction right now.

“I ordered a hooker for five. You’re early.”

The woman doesn't look bothered. Instead, she wears a wary, hesitant expression. “Doctor House?”

“Close. It’s Hyde, actually. Were you looking for Jekyll, instead? He’s not here right now. I can never find him—“

The woman rolls her eyes and her shoulders deflate, but she's still clearly irritated. “I can’t do this— House, it’s me.”

House raises an eyebrow. That tone sounds familiar, but... “I don’t know who ‘me’ is—at least, not your ‘me...’” He tilts his head. “Well, now I've gotten myself all confused.”

“It’s _Wilson_.” The woman hisses through gritted teeth.

All humor is immediately set aside and House narrows his eyes. “What do you know?”

“No, it’s Wilson! Me! _I’m_ Wilson!”

House stares.

And stares.

The woman glances at her watch and rolls her eyes, putting her hands in her pockets and rocking on her heels in a very Wilson-like manner. But no, it can't be. It's not possible. However... As House takes in the light brown hair and brown eyes, the high cheekbones and strong jawline that's softer than it should be, he begins to feel the very beginnings of doubt.

“Where’s Wilson?” He asks darkly. “What do you want? Did you kidnap him? Are you looking for money? I hate to disappoint you, but I’m super cheap, so the ransom can’t be too high.”

The woman rolls her eyes again and sighs exasperatedly. “Glad to know I’m worth so little to you. You’d probably find a way to use _my_ money to pay the ransom. Can you let me in, please?”

Whoever this woman is, she's good. House smirks in amusement. “This is a prank, isn’t it? I gotta say, you’re really good at this. The nuances are spot on.” 

"This isn’t a prank, and I’m not someone else!” The woman is getting desperate now.

House sighs and shakes his head, dropping his chin to his chest. If this woman knows something about Wilson, she's not going to share it. Not easily, anyway. And the only explanation that currently makes the most sense is that this woman knows the patient who threatened "the person closest" to House. Or whatever he'd said. This whole thing is getting rather complicated, and House's head is beginning to hurt.

"House, whatever you're thinking--"

The woman is cut off by the sound of House's palm slamming against the door frame. "Enough!" He shouts, shocking the woman into gaping silence. Now he's getting angry. "Just tell me where Wilson is or I'll--" He cuts himself off before he can make a menacing threat.

The woman blinks, opens her mouth and then closes it again; then her head tilts and her brow furrows in suspicion. “You... You’re concerned about me,” she says slowly, like she’s savoring every word whilst simultaneously not believing each word. 

“About  Wilson , you mean? No. I’m just sick of my boss getting on my case. Something about finding the head of oncology for her precious hospital.” He rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. 

The woman’s shoulders drop again and so does her expression. “I can’t see her like this. She wouldn’t believe me, and she has enough to worry about.”

House scoffs and looks offended. “Like  what ? She’s used to dealing with my crap by now, and her only other major concern is the fact that a department head is missing—which will be remedied once I find Wilson.” 

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m Wilson?” This woman obviously isn’t concerned about Cuddy or House’s irritation. 

House tilts his head back in thought and chews on his lower lip, his eyes scanning the woman’s shapely body. This time, however, it’s purely for scientific purposes (although the teenage corner of his brain still faintly supplies ‘hottie’). 

“DNA test,” he finally decides. 

“Fine.”

The woman goes to leave but House stops her. 

“Uh-uh,” he admonishes, stepping out into the hallway while keeping his hand on the doorframe for as long as possible. “You could fake it. I will personally take you to the hospital, and if I find out you’ve been lying to me—“

“Fine.”

House nods and finally looks up at the woman, who is still staring at him with such a familiar, resolute gaze. He nods once, then the woman nods.

“Tomorrow,” she says.

“Okay.” His tone is agreeable.

They part ways and House locks his door. 


	3. Come up to meet you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson and House discuss impossibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need this idea out in the ether so it stops bouncing around in my brain. I really tried my best to get into House's mind, but it's a tough place to go sometimes. So if this doesn't turn out to be a long fic with detailed chapters full of flowery description, I'm sorry, and I will be just as disappointed as the readers. Dx
> 
> The chapter title is from Coldplay's "The Scientist."

As the needle goes into her vein, the woman finally looks back over at House. She's unfazed by his staring. "What?"

House shrugs, never taking his eyes off of her. His blue eyes pierce through the woman's core, and he's fully aware that his gaze can make people squirm. However, this woman seems to be completely immune to it. All she seems focused on right now is her chest and hips, as she keeps glancing at both sections before shifting uncomfortably on the examination table. 

"I'm just trying to figure out how someone experiencing a psychotic break could be so calm in a situation where she's apparently woken up as a different sex," he explains, narrowing his eyes in thought. The woman knows that he isn't finished speaking yet, which is another interesting development: normally a patient is ready to argue; yet this woman just stares expectantly right back at House and patiently waits for him to continue. "Or––if you're really in on some elaborate scheme with a former patient of mine––how you can be so calm while knowing that your DNA won't be a match to Doctor Wilson's."

The woman quirks an eyebrow. "You done?"

"Yeah," House replies amicably.

Pouty lips sigh and slim shoulders shrug. "I don't know how far this sex change goes, House. I could have female chromosomes with only my genetics proving that I'm James Wilson." Her free hand slams down on the table, causing the phlebotomist to jump. The woman gives him an apologetic glance before turning her attention to the ceiling. "I don't even know if that makes sense, or how that's even possible, but I've been trying to figure it out all morning."

There's the briefest moment where House wants to believe that this woman is Wilson--her frustration and anxiety-ridden posture are so convincing. But he hasn't ruled out the impossible yet. "So what are you planning to do if the results come back and prove that you're an imposter? Are you going to tell me where the real Wilson is?"

The furrow of the woman's brow and the vexed brown eyes focusing on him make House's heart constrict. He has to look away because that _look_ screams Wilson. When the woman speaks again, though, House returns his gaze.

"Can we just focus on one thing at a time, please?" She moves her arm out in front of her, palm down; the same gesture Wilson makes when he wants a conversation to either be over or just put on hold.

House finds himself replying like he always does to that gesture. "Sure."

A barely-there, grateful nod, and then those dark eyes are looking back at the needle.

* * *

"So?"

House stares at the sheet of paper and mentally notes the exact date and time when science failed him. 

"House?"

The anxious tone is just biting enough to snap him out of it, and his eyes flick up to...Wilson.

"This doesn't make any sense..." His voice sounds small, and he blames it on being so deep in thought. He holds out the results and the woman grabs them, but House misses the way her eyes scan the page over and over again.

House just can't make any sense of it. "I ran the test myself. _Twice_. I watched your blood go into the machine." He retraces his steps from the door to the countertop where he gave all of his focus just minutes ago.

There's a huff of relieved laughter from the woman and House looks up to see her smiling. 

"This is unbelievably weird," she says.

"Why are you so happy about it?" House asks, obviously not at all amused.

The woman's expression becomes incredulous. "How else am I supposed to react? Do you want me to show just how much I'm freaking out right now? Or can I let myself be amused for a few minutes instead of tearing my hair out and praying to wake up from this crazy dream?!" 

It's uncanny how alike this woman's mannerisms are to––

 _Damn it._ According to the test, this woman really is Wilson. Now House feels like he's in his own weird, Vicodin-induced dream. 

"Maybe I'm hallucinating," the woman observes, eyes peering at House. "Did you drug me?"

"If I did, then you either retaliated or I accidentally drugged myself, too." At the confused head tilt he receives in response, House elaborates. "I feel like _I'm_ hallucinating right now."

There's an extended moment of silence as the two of them let this new reality sink in.

"So... What do we do now?" The timbre may be feminine, but the lost-puppy undertones are entirely Wilson. 

Okay, time for action. House breaks himself out of this uncharacteristic stupor of his and holds out his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "You need a new name! How about 'Willie?'"

Wilson raises an eyebrow.

"Short for 'Wilhelmina'." But even House sounds uncertain.

"How about we just stick with 'Wilson?'"

"No one is going to believe that it's you. And even if they did, do you really want them pestering you with questions? Possibly even perform painful scientific experiments on you?"

Wilson shudders despite her best attempt to appear unfazed.

"Wilson-ella is another name that comes to mind."

House's attempt at giving a name so absurd that it makes the other name look good by comparison is successful. Wilson relents with a nod, but then her hand is raised. House feels a "but" coming on.

"'Wilhelmina' works. But only when we're around other people. I'm still _me_ , so I'd like to have my actual name used as much as possible."

"Fair enough. So, I guess now our next step is to find a way to turn you back into your strapping Boy Wonder oncologist form." House gives this new Wilson a more appreciative once-over. "Although, I have to say, this form is _awesome_."

Wilson groans and rolls her eyes. "Now I know how Cuddy feels."

House smirks and follows Wilson out of the lab. "She secretly revels in it."

"Oh, obviously." The sarcasm drips heavily off of those red lips.

House stops.

"Wait a minute," he says, stopping Wilson with a hand on her shoulder. "Are you wearing _lipstick?"_

Wilson blushes and looks away fervently. House's eyes go wide as saucers and his mouth breaks out into a delighted grin. 

"You _are_!" House exclaims. He feels like a kid at Christmas who just saw his best friend wearing lipstick.

"Shhhh!" The woman hisses, trying to shove House away from her. "Yes, alright?! I'm wearing lipstick. Can you keep your voice down?"

"Why are you wearing lipstick?"

Wilson growls in irritation and begins to walk towards the elevators. "I just figured that's what a woman would do."

House is _loving_ this. "You just 'figured'? Bold of you to assume such a thing, on behalf of women everywhere."

"Ah, yes, because you were given the right to speak on behalf of women everywhere."

House presses the button with the bottom of his cane, eyes never leaving Wilson's. 

"That grin is starting to creep me out," she remarks.

"Too bad." His grin grows a bit wider. "So where'd you get the lipstick? Did Cuddy let you borrow it? Cameron saw her in your office gathering some things. Does Cuddy know you're one of her kind now?"

"I thought Cuddy was a guy?" Wilson raises a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Not after the surgery. You know, it's too bad she didn't see whoever did your surgery. You can't even tell. Fantastic work."

Wilson ignores House and steps into the elevator, not surprised when House falls into place right beside him. A sigh leaves Wilson and the doors close as if on cue, leaving just the two of them in the confined space. 

The two friends are now painfully aware of each other––something that Wilson had only ever noticed a few times before. Being a woman shouldn't change that, but it does, somehow. Probably because House made such a big deal out of Wilson wearing lipstick. 

House leans in closer and Wilson holds her breath, willing her heart to stop racing. "Are you wearing perfume, too?"

"Shampoo."

House gives Wilson a _look._

"What?" She sounds offended.

"Have you been preparing for this day?"

"Of course not! I've always used this shampoo. You've just never noticed it before."

"Huh." House chews on the inside of his cheek as he does some self-rumination. The scent of the shampoo isn't particularly feminine or masculine, but now that he thinks about it, it does smell familiar. Maybe he'd smelled it before when Wilson shifted a certain way as they walked through the hospital corridors together. Any more thought is torn away, however, when the elevator doors open again, throwing the two of them into the bustling world outside of whatever pleasant bubble they'd just spent time in. Wilson steps out and makes a beeline for the front entrance. 

"Wait!" House calls, hurriedly limping after his now-female friend. "Don't you want to tell Cuddy and see the look on her face?"

"You don't honestly think she'll believe me?"

"No, but her exasperated glare is always a sight to behold."

"I don't think so. If you want to try and tell her, be my guest. Right now all I want to do is go home and pretend that this isn't happening."

"That'll be hard to do when you're giving yourself a home examination."

Wilson grimaces and makes a disgusted sound. "Glad to see that not even your best friend turning into a woman can stop your libido."

House smiles and watches Wilson push the door open. "Wanna grab dinner tonight?"

"Bye, House."

With that, she's gone; leaving House to wonder if most of his sudden attraction to Wilson is unironic or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my day and motivate me!!<3


	4. Up to no good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House tries to get Wilson to stop moping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took me so long to continue! After reading so many amazing fics, my own insecurities started eating at me and I didn't feel like I had it in me to finish it. But I would like to see it completed so now here I am. I hope that everyone who read it when it was first published will continue to read it, and I hope it gains new readers, too! This chapter is unbeta'ed so any mistakes are my bad. Please feel free to leave comments because I crave validation.<3 Constructive criticism is great, too, and I love reading other people's ideas and incorporating them into the current work!

At exactly seven o'clock, there's a knock on Wilson's door. She checks her watch and groans into her palms, trying to shift further down into the couch as though that will hide her. 

"Wilson! You can't hide forever. You need to eat at some point. Remember all those times you lectured me?" House's tone betrays no ulterior motive other than to annoy her, but Wilson is still suspicious. Besides, she doesn't feel like being treated like a criminal. The thought of House being concerned for a kidnapped Wilson felt good at first, but that vengeful glare had worn out its welcome within an hour. And the way House kept looking at her as though she were a freak science experiment gone wrong, or like she'd somehow connived with the universe to betray him, had started to sting. Adding some nausea into the mix for good measure was how their banter in the elevator had made everything seem normal, but then House had gone and made it weird again by making that "home exam" remark. It wasn't really the remark itself that bothered her (heaven knows she's heard him say similar things all the time) but the way his eyes flashed something akin to anger. Like he was mad at her for making him say such things. But again, it wasn't like House had never flirted with her before when she'd been a man! So what was with him? She groaned again, it was all too confusing. 

The banging on the door grows louder and more insistent. House calls over the noise, "I'm not going away! You'd better act fast if you don't want the neighbors to report a noise violation!" He smirks when the door flies open to reveal a glaring...Wilson--it's still Wilson--with shoulder-length hair in slight disarray and a slightly open robe. Unable to help himself, House raises a suggestive eyebrow. "The self-exam was successful, I see." Wilson gives him a bemused look before her eyes catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror just off to the left of the door and she squeaks, combing her fingers through her hair and tightening the robe. Once she's satisfied with her appearance, she folds her arms across her (average, just bordering on ample, House notes) chest and frowns deeply at him. 

"This is from trying to bury myself into the couch, you ass."

House doesn't hold back his amused smile because Wilson is adorable like this, and she'll only get angrier, which will make her even more adorable. It's a win-win, really. "Sure. I've heard of that euphemism before."

Wilson rolls her eyes. "Did you trek all the way over here just to stand at my door and make suggestive comments?"

"No, I trekked all the way over here to sit on your couch and make suggestive comments."

There's a brief staredown as Wilson tries to read House's expression and debate whether or not to send him home. She is really _not_ in the mood for this, and House can tell. He's sorely tempted to keep pushing her buttons (innuendo very much intended), but something in her eyes gives him pause. 

House's expression shifts into something more...understanding... Which is impossible because he couldn't possibly understand what Wilson is going through right now, but the way he tilts his head slightly and juts his chin out makes the whole atmosphere feel amiable. Wilson narrows her eyes but feels the fight leaving her.

"Who knows how long you'll be stuck like this. Might as well enjoy it, right?" House asks innocently. 

Wilson's eyes narrow even further and she shifts in place, but House shakes his head. "Not like that," he amends, surprisingly. "I mean go out and mess with people. See if you can look Julie up and make her jealous of how great you look. Pretend to be your new girlfriend. Pretend to be _my_ new girlfriend and prove to Cuddy that you're not some hooker I hired to make her jealous."

There are...a lot of emotions that those last two options stir up in Wilson, and she's loathed to call one of them jealousy. The other is something akin to hopeful and bashful, but she quashes that feeling down immediately. There are a lot of things to be said about those suggestions, but the only thing Wilson can think to ask is, " _Are_ you trying to make her jealous? I thought you said that you were over the breakup?" She hoped he was--for his sake, obviously. And for her own sake, too, because she wouldn't have to deal with a Greg House that was more self-destructive than usual.

House shrugs one shoulder, ducking his head and peering up at Wilson through his lashes with a calculating gaze. "I wasn't planning on it, but when life gives you lemons..."

Wilson rolls her eyes and huffs out a grieved laugh. "As if _my_ transformation is affecting _you_. I'm sorry you have to deal with my new state of _being a woman_. You don't _have_ to hang around me, you know."

House winces but hides it so quickly that Wilson would have missed it if she'd blinked. He looks like he's bracing himself when he says, "You're a bit touchy. Are you sure it's not just the new hormones raging in your body?"

"Oh- _ho_ ," Wilson replies from deep within her chest, her eyes flashing fire. "I was waiting for a comment like that. Because I'm suddenly a woman, I'm more emotional and sensitive, right? No, House, I'm angry at you right now because you're being an ass. Which isn't really a surprise, but I'm tired and freaking out and I don't want to deal with any of your--"

"Go out with me."

Wilson stops short and blinks owlishly. "What?" Her voice sounds too small, and that causes House to roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Not like _that_ ," he gripes. "Just get out of this apartment and do something fun. Something crazy. Crazier than what's happening with you right now."

Wilson raises an eyebrow. "I don't think there's anything much crazier than this. If there is, I'm sure it isn't legal."

"Legal is overrated."

"As a fellow doctor, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."

"Come on, just do something that isn't gender-specific. Eat crappy fast food and watch a dumb movie." House's expression shifts again into something more meaningful, but Wilson can't place the emotion as her friend ducks his gaze. "I don't even have to be there. I'll go home. Just... get your mind off of this so I don't have to worry about you doing something stupid."

 _House_ is worried about _Wilson_ doing something stupid? Wilson's expression softens and she shifts her weight onto her other foot, crossing her arms as a contemplative look darkens her eyes. "Do I even need to comment on how I'm always the one having to make sure you don't do anything stupid?"

House shrugs and glances up at his best friend. "You just did."

Wilson keeps looking at House, which usually wouldn't even make him flinch. But the dynamic has changed. There's still a part of House that doesn't believe this is really James Wilson standing in front of him, but he'd run the test twice. And data doesn't lie. Or...it shouldn't. 

House is starting to wonder how long this staring match will go on when Wilson is the first to break. She sighs and relaxes her shoulders, shrugging slightly. "Well, I don't really feel like sitting around here all night feeling sorry for myself. So, what did you have in mind?"

The only sign of the mischief House is feeling shows up in a spark in his blue eyes and a slight upturn in the corner of his mouth. 

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, I hope I'm getting the characterizations correct. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!! Also, if you wanna buy me a tea, it would be greatly appreciated! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/duchesswriter
> 
> QUESTION: Should Cuddy know what’s happened to Wilson, and should they try to pass Wilson off as Cuddy’s friend? House figures it out, of course, because he knows his Wilson. OR should Cuddy also be unaware and only be in contact with Wilson through text? Thereby making the phone conversation Thirteen saw moot since it was with someone other than Wilson? Let me know in the comments!


End file.
